Baltimore album reviews [Pictures]

RATING: ** 1/2 out of 4 It's common for a funk-jam band to accumulate a following -- or a "flock," as the Baltimore quartet Pigeons Playing Ping Pong lovingly refers to their fanbase -- through live shows. The audience is typically there to appreciate the showy musicianship, follow improvised whims and generally soak up the vibes. Pigeons, which began nearly eight years ago in a University of Maryland dorm room, took two years to record their second album, "Psychology" (released last Thursday), because the band was busy winning over crowds via a grassroots campaign. (It worked: Pigeons have more than 12,000 fans on Facebook, and played nearly 200 shows last year. Their current schedule shows no signs of slowing down.) Now comes the hard part for any jam band: capturing the live essence to tape. The band's first attempt, 2010's "Funk EP," was effective but admittedly thrown together quickly (singer Greg Ormont said recently it was recorded in one night). Knowing that their star had risen considerably in a short time (the band headlined 9:30 Club last week), Pigeons were determined to give fans a more refined collection. Of course, a listener's enjoyment of "Psychology" will depend heavily on his or her penchant for prolonged jam sessions. Pigeons clearly know their audience; why else would they stretch (sometimes unnecessarily so) four-minute songs into six or seven minute pieces? When it works -- say on the album's nearly 10-minute centerpiece "Horizon" or toward the exuberant end of "Time to Ride" -- the group shows its ability to crescendo in charged harmony. There are moments of overextension, though, which cause the more-relaxed sections to veer into Muzak territory. Members of the flock will argue the ebb and flow of Pigeons' music is essential to the composition, since energized peaks are dull without calm valleys. That's fair and easier to swallow because the music here is often technically impressive. So perhaps "Psychology" falls a bit flat because of the lyrics. Ode-to-funk opener "F.U." (which includes the Hornitz, a duo of horns from Boston who enliven the track and are missed later) believes it's more clever than it actually is. "Sunny Day," with its cheesy heavy echo effect on the vocals, whines about "how my smiles can turn into frowns." It comes across as empty rhetoric. It's telling the most exciting song here, the danceable disco update "Schwanthem," lacks lyrics all together. It's also the shortest. -- Wesley Case

RATING: ** 1/2 out of 4 It's common for a funk-jam band to accumulate a following -- or a "flock," as the Baltimore quartet Pigeons Playing Ping Pong lovingly refers to their fanbase -- through live shows. The audience is typically there to appreciate the showy musicianship, follow improvised whims and generally soak up the vibes. Pigeons, which began nearly eight years ago in a University of Maryland dorm room, took two years to record their second album, "Psychology" (released last Thursday), because the band was busy winning over crowds via a grassroots campaign. (It worked: Pigeons have more than 12,000 fans on Facebook, and played nearly 200 shows last year. Their current schedule shows no signs of slowing down.) Now comes the hard part for any jam band: capturing the live essence to tape. The band's first attempt, 2010's "Funk EP," was effective but admittedly thrown together quickly (singer Greg Ormont said recently it was recorded in one night). Knowing that their star had risen considerably in a short time (the band headlined 9:30 Club last week), Pigeons were determined to give fans a more refined collection. Of course, a listener's enjoyment of "Psychology" will depend heavily on his or her penchant for prolonged jam sessions. Pigeons clearly know their audience; why else would they stretch (sometimes unnecessarily so) four-minute songs into six or seven minute pieces? When it works -- say on the album's nearly 10-minute centerpiece "Horizon" or toward the exuberant end of "Time to Ride" -- the group shows its ability to crescendo in charged harmony. There are moments of overextension, though, which cause the more-relaxed sections to veer into Muzak territory. Members of the flock will argue the ebb and flow of Pigeons' music is essential to the composition, since energized peaks are dull without calm valleys. That's fair and easier to swallow because the music here is often technically impressive. So perhaps "Psychology" falls a bit flat because of the lyrics. Ode-to-funk opener "F.U." (which includes the Hornitz, a duo of horns from Boston who enliven the track and are missed later) believes it's more clever than it actually is. "Sunny Day," with its cheesy heavy echo effect on the vocals, whines about "how my smiles can turn into frowns." It comes across as empty rhetoric. It's telling the most exciting song here, the danceable disco update "Schwanthem," lacks lyrics all together. It's also the shortest. -- Wesley Case (Handout)

RATING: *** out of 4 LISTEN ON SPOTIFY: Ed Schrader's Music Beat, "Party Jail" The words of Ed Schrader have delighted and perplexed audiences for years. When he moved to Baltimore from his hometown of Utica, N.Y., in 2006, Schrader quickly made a name for himself in Dan Deacon's Wham City arts collective for reasons other than music. Schrader was, in fact, an aspiring solo musician, but he was more known for hosting an offbeat, and oftentimes surreal, monthly talk show at Metro Gallery. At least that was the case until Schrader teamed up with Devlin Rice in 2010. Two years later, the duo released "Jazz Mind," a brooding debut album that presented their noisy formula plainly and confidently: Drummer and vocalist Schrader shouts and bangs on a lone floor tom as Rice played bass. On Tuesday, the minimalist punk duo returns with "Party Jail," a second full-length album that finds Schrader and Rice embracing and refining their pop sensibilities while keeping the pace sugar-rushed. On standouts like "Televan" and "Radio Eyes," the duo attacks tracks with a deliciously bratty confidence that bubbled underneath the surface of "Jazz Mind," but now exists at the forefront here. The players remain fully committed to their short, punchy delivery, and now seem in complete control of when to twist and when to turn. "Laughing," for example, cleverly plays with a listener's expectation of when a crescendo should hit. "Party Jail" is an intoxicating record, partly because of its brash musical dynamics (Schrader and Devlin can play their instruments, but they enjoy pounding them to a pulp, too) but even more so because of Schrader's unpredictable lyrics. The album is full of non-sequiturs that shirk logic ("brittle candy skull made of mints" on "Pink Moons") or provide descriptive-but-fleeting snapshots ("regal Pariah dogs share their little bit with hogs" on "Cold Right Hand"). The approach will understandably frustrate some, but there is simple pleasure in following Schrader's lyrical whims and strange combinations of verbs, nouns and adjectives. On "Pilot," he sings, "Pious priestess pull your eyelids / Candlelit vigil for the gilded siren / God save kings!" The brain asks, "Is this brilliant? Is this nonsense?" Maybe it's both. Most impressively, Schrader and Devlin know when to exit. With 13 songs clocking in at 26 minutes, "Party Jail" is over before you know it, and that seems to be the point. (The record is strong and satisfying, but when it ended, there was no wishing it was longer.) Schrader and Rice know brevity is essential to the charm, and they're wiser for sticking to it. -- Wesley Case

RATING: *** out of 4 LISTEN ON SPOTIFY: Ed Schrader's Music Beat, "Party Jail" The words of Ed Schrader have delighted and perplexed audiences for years. When he moved to Baltimore from his hometown of Utica, N.Y., in 2006, Schrader quickly made a name for himself in Dan Deacon's Wham City arts collective for reasons other than music. Schrader was, in fact, an aspiring solo musician, but he was more known for hosting an offbeat, and oftentimes surreal, monthly talk show at Metro Gallery. At least that was the case until Schrader teamed up with Devlin Rice in 2010. Two years later, the duo released "Jazz Mind," a brooding debut album that presented their noisy formula plainly and confidently: Drummer and vocalist Schrader shouts and bangs on a lone floor tom as Rice played bass. On Tuesday, the minimalist punk duo returns with "Party Jail," a second full-length album that finds Schrader and Rice embracing and refining their pop sensibilities while keeping the pace sugar-rushed. On standouts like "Televan" and "Radio Eyes," the duo attacks tracks with a deliciously bratty confidence that bubbled underneath the surface of "Jazz Mind," but now exists at the forefront here. The players remain fully committed to their short, punchy delivery, and now seem in complete control of when to twist and when to turn. "Laughing," for example, cleverly plays with a listener's expectation of when a crescendo should hit. "Party Jail" is an intoxicating record, partly because of its brash musical dynamics (Schrader and Devlin can play their instruments, but they enjoy pounding them to a pulp, too) but even more so because of Schrader's unpredictable lyrics. The album is full of non-sequiturs that shirk logic ("brittle candy skull made of mints" on "Pink Moons") or provide descriptive-but-fleeting snapshots ("regal Pariah dogs share their little bit with hogs" on "Cold Right Hand"). The approach will understandably frustrate some, but there is simple pleasure in following Schrader's lyrical whims and strange combinations of verbs, nouns and adjectives. On "Pilot," he sings, "Pious priestess pull your eyelids / Candlelit vigil for the gilded siren / God save kings!" The brain asks, "Is this brilliant? Is this nonsense?" Maybe it's both. Most impressively, Schrader and Devlin know when to exit. With 13 songs clocking in at 26 minutes, "Party Jail" is over before you know it, and that seems to be the point. (The record is strong and satisfying, but when it ended, there was no wishing it was longer.) Schrader and Rice know brevity is essential to the charm, and they're wiser for sticking to it. -- Wesley Case (Handout)

Making sense of Baltimore's music scene, from rap to indie-rock to pop, and everything in-between. Local artists interested in submitting albums or mixtapes for potential review can email Wesley Case or contact him on Twitter.